WoodenSpoon

An icecream, once the object of desire,
Lies now abandoned on the sunburnt road.
Not even the cherry on top warranted salvage.

Was the fall accompanied by a wail of dismay?
Was there an instant promise of replacement?
Or was it discarded, half-eaten
Because its taste didn't live up to the allure of the picture?

Could not even the bubblegum cherry be saved?
We seek escape at the beach;
Some find only sorrow.

I suppose that, somewhat like Swann, I am prone to spending too much time thinking about the past, and encountering forgotten memories through tenuous strings of association. But I remember well the sweet taste of this animal’s flesh and the place where we all sat down to devour it. A chance visitation at the right hour was good for me, but an earlier meeting at sea was unlucky for this fish.

I have a little ‘widget’ on my screen that displays random thumbnails from my photo collection. I recently found some CD archives from 2003 and reloaded them onto my hard disk, so I’ve been seeing some ‘new’ pix appear from time to time.

Here is a photo taken nearly five years ago, but only a few hundred metres from when I’m sitting. It is a dead turtle that we found by the river when I was walking with my brother Andrew and Harry, his son. The photo was taken on boxing day, and has been in a box until now.

Introducing a new term for an old theme. Nature mort, or still life, is:

…art depicting inanimate subject matter, typically commonplace objects which may be either natural (food, plants and natural substances like rocks) or man-made (drinking glasses, cigarettes, pipes, hotdogs and so on) in an artificial setting.

I’ll be posting pix of dead birds and dead bikes under this category.

I quite liked the way the yellow of the crest feathers matches the yello line on the road. An artistic death.